At the Pawn Shop

There is a spirit of adventure, when you open the old wooden door of the old Main Street Pawn Shop, a wonderful place to explore I hear a tinkling sound, from the suspended brass bell And when I enter the shadows, I am under the spell I often drop by, a chance for a glance, to dance into time A dingy old store ..., this place I adore..what was his, could be mine? I scour the junk, the discarded old trunk, a bit of history in disguise Elbow to elbow, wall to wall...a sea of collectibles to capture my eyes Upon every visit, a brand new dilemma.. what might I find in the gloom? How can I use this? Should I buy that? Will I have room? As the lifting down from the dusty shelves, the musty scent of wood Telling a story...pungent and sweet....restore it?....I could!! A treasure, I'll think...Soon after the clink that nourishes a till For mere pennies...I will haul it home...paint, polish or shine...that's the thrill! How divine! Once it was theirs..., lost in a time zone...now it is mine... Swift on the track of the years that had left it behind....